Twas the Night Before Christmas
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Courtesy of Kavi Leighanna & Sienna27 TV Prompt Challenge: Chapter 6 Will & Grace "All About Christmas Eve". Six chapter arc. Emily searches for the perfect gift
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: For my Hotch/Prentiss shippers, I think this will be a three chapter arc. For those of you following my stories, from now until Christmas, my updates will be coming every other day. Sorry, my friends, blame my children and their countless Christmas activities. As usual, Tonnie and I have a ball bringing you these stories, so, please be patient with us. The holiday season is kicking our collective rumps. Thank you, everyone who is taking the time to both read & review. Please continue! It makes it worthwhile to do this, knowing that we've managed to capture your interest. As ever, we don't own Criminal Minds (though I wouldn't mind having Joe M. for in my stocking this year!).**_

**Twas the Night Before Christmas**

_**Prompt: Spin City – "Miracle Near 34**__**th**__** Street"**_

**Chapter One**

As Emily Prentiss perused the racks of ancient books gracing Collins Collectibles on a frigid Sunday afternoon, she frowned. This trip down to the intersection of 34th Street and Lynde Avenue on the outskirts of DC appeared to be a bust, much like all the preceding trips she'd made to every antique store over the past few weeks. Glancing around the small, cramped shop, she couldn't help but feel her stomach clench, her eyes not catching on anything. This was her last hope. This musty smelling store. In the past week she'd traveled through every antique store in a thirty mile radius on a mission to find that elusively special Secret Santa gift for the most difficult recipient. And with every excursion she'd struck out.

She knew what he wanted. And if he wanted it, then she needed it. Desperately.

Sure, it was going to cost a mite more than the twenty dollar spending limit that the team had agreed on, her desire for the perfect gift trumping all other arbitrary rules or regulations. Sure, she'd spent more on gas than the Secret Santa budget combined to fund her journeys for this particular gem. But that was all beside the point. Because she'd drawn his name from that ragged hat JJ had shoved in front of her nose a month ago, she intended on finding exactly the perfect gift. And thanks to a particularly useful inside source, this was one colleague that she'd had no doubt what he wanted.

As she turned from the stacks of books with their yellowed pages and bent corners, her eyes were drawn toward the plate glass window at the front of the store. The owners had done a truly lovely job with the display. Antique ornaments adorned a graceful tree lit in red and blue lights, the twinkles reflecting on the leaded pane. Presents wrapped below it in festive paper beckoned the eye, the delicate bows reminiscent of days gone by. And on an antique wooden table, set for four with beautiful porcelain settings, standing in the center, there it was.

The perfect gift. The Night Before Christmas, circa 1863, by Clement Clarke Moore.

If she hadn't been sure that jumping up and down in the small store crammed with priceless treasures would surely break something, she'd have been bouncing excitedly on her merry feet. However, Emily was nothing if not practical, quickly recognizing the folly of such action. So, she settled for a quick fist pump of victory and a large smile, and hurried toward the antiquated cash register at the front of the store, her footsteps loud against the creaking hardwood floor.

Smiling brightly at the elderly saleswoman behind the register, Emily happily pointed toward the window, her eyes fairly bouncing at the joy of finding the perfect item. "The book on the table, I'll take it."

"Honey," the old woman's voice, cracked with age, began to say, her head shaking sadly, "That's not…"

"I don't care how much it is," Emily interrupted, shaking her head as she pulled her wallet from her purse, a smile pasted firmly on her lips as she turned back to face the reluctant clerk, "Wrap it up."

"I'm sorry, dear. It's already on hold for someone else," the white haired woman said apologetically, pressing her veined hand against the aged oak display case that served as the register counter.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Emily moaned, eyeing the book with lascivious eyes, her fingers tightening almost convulsively around the wooden counter, "Whatever you're asking for it, I'll pay double," Emily offered as she turned back to the other woman. Seeing the doubtful look in the older lady's eyes, Emily quickly revised, gambling quickly on the fact that she might be the only paying customer this shop had all day, "Make it triple. It's really important, Ma'am."

"Well, I suppose," the elderly woman said, looking thoughtfully at the window as she pressed her hand to her cardigan-covered chest. She spoke again, almost as if she was thinking aloud, "The gentleman that asked us to hold it was supposed to have been here yesterday."

"Then, I say," Emily said, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, recognizing the efficacy of making a new friend at this moment, "If you snooze, you lose. Don't you? Especially when you have a customer standing right in front of you willing to pay triple your asking price. I'm betting that'll buy a whole lot of Christmas gifts, wouldn't it?"

"That it would, dear," the lady nodded, with a side glance at the various photos in plastic frames that lined the back of the counter, her six grandchildren's faces smiling back at her. With a wink, she inclined her head back to Emily, "It's a deal. I'll even throw in a wrap job. I tie a mean bow."

"That sounds like a deal, Emily grinned widely, handing over her Visa card, mentally congratulating herself on achieving the impossible. For a year that had been less than sterling, perhaps she could interject a small measure of happiness in the life of her recipient. Watching as the older woman meticulously removed the book from its resting place, Emily couldn't help but wonder about the family that had once used that very item, about the children that had enjoyed hearing the famous story every Christmas Eve. Her own childhood Christmas memories seemed muted, faded in the distance, so non-descript that they didn't even bear retaining in her mind.

Shaking herself out of the sudden reverie, she maintained a small flow of chatter with the obviously pleased sale clerk, watching with amazement as the older woman's frail hands contorted into miraculous positions as the perfect bow appeared on top of the perfectly wrapped gift. Taking this as a sign that she had definitely made the right choice, Emily smiled widely as she took possession of the gift, holding it tightly to her chest as she stepped out of the bygone shop and back onto the cold winter air.

And so, stepping into her car fifteen minutes later, Emily Prentiss was six hundred dollars poorer and one very magical Christmas present richer. But she'd gotten what she came for. Aaron Hotchner was going to have a very merry Christmas indeed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Twas the Night Before Christmas**

_**Prompt: Lie To Me – "Secret Santa"**_

**Chapter Two**

Stepping happily out of Aaron Hotchner's office Monday morning, Emily cheerfully hummed an off-key rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" as she walked toward the war room, early for the Monday morning meeting. She'd stealthily completed her first mission of the day, dropping off Hotch's gift in the center of his pristine desk. The beautifully wrapped package had a certain panache, almost a touch of Christmas joy in the middle of his sterile surroundings. He'd have his present in plenty of time for tomorrow's Christmas Eve telling of the traditional story. Jack Hotchner would go to bed one satisfied little boy and Aaron Hotchner would be in possession of his beloved storybook once more, complete with wrinkled yellowed pages and worn covers.

Angels were surely singing on high somewhere. And all because of her persistence.

Walking into the brown paneled room, she found JJ already at the round table, her serious eyes pouring over a file. Smiling widely, Emily announced with a flourish, "Well, Annie Sullivan, you pulled off the impossible again."

Looking up, JJ smiled at her uncharacteristically peppy dark haired colleague. "What miracle have I pulled off today?" JJ asked, leaning back in her chair and dropping her pen to the scarred wooden table, rolling her shoulders in relief. "I don't remember teaching any deaf mutes to speak this morning."

"No," Emily shook her head, black hair glistening in the fluorescent lights, "You did something even better," she grinned, pulling out the chair next to the blonde agent and plopping into the seat beside her. "That Collin's Collectibles you sent me to was a treasure, indeed!" Emily informed her excitedly, barely resisting hugging the younger woman.

Eyes widening at Emily's obvious enthusiasm, JJ's mouth dropped open. "They had a copy? Are you serious?" she asked, shocked and delighted that Emily had managed to lay her hands on a copy of that elusive book Hotch had the entire team searching for. "You're kidding?"

"Nope," Emily said with a small shake of her head, tapping her manicured nail against the edge of the table as she barely contained her excitement. Leveling twinkling eyes on her friend, she added, "I just dropped it off on his desk. He'll have it as soon as he crawls on his throne for the day. I do feel sort of guilty though."

"Guilty? What for? You didn't tackle some innocent kid for it, did you?" JJ asked with a chuckle, one blonde brow arched as she watched her friend almost shimmy in her seat. Although, she was half certain Prentiss might have done exactly that in order to make the small Hotchner family's Christmas. The woman was definitely in deep when it came to her unspoken emotional involvement with Aaron Hotchner, whether she would admit it or not.

"Nothing quite so physical," Emily shrugged, wrinkling her patrician nose as she remembered the entire shopping trip in detail. "I sort of bought it out from underneath another customer. By bribing the sales clerk," she said guiltily, her hands dropping to her lap.

"Come again?" JJ asked, quirking an eyebrow. Now, the story was beginning to get even more interesting, JJ thought, turning in her seat to see her friend better.

"Well, the shop lady said that book was on hold for another customer. But they were late, JJ. They were supposed to pick it up Friday evening and they never showed. So, Saturday, I offered her triple the asking price to sell it to me. And, I guess my winning personality sold her."

"How much did you end up paying for that book, Em?" JJ asked carefully, her eyes surprised at the lengths to which her friend had gone in her quest for the perfect gift.

"Six hundred dollars," Emily mumbled, averting her eyes as she dropped her purse on the floor beside her.

"Pardon me," JJ squeaked, dropping her hands to the wooden table in front of her, her mouth forming a perfect "o" as she felt her lower jaw drop.

"You heard me," Emily sighed, dropping her head, pressing her chin against her chest as she avoided looking at her friend. "But Jack and Hotch needed that book…and I was under a time constraint."

"Emily Prentiss," JJ muttered, shaking her head in awe. "You've got it bad."

"They're worth every penny," Emily replied firmly, quickly meeting JJ's blue eyes as she defended her actions. "Both of them."

"I don't doubt that's exactly how you feel, Emily. And congratulations, my friend. You've pulled off a Christmas miracle," JJ said, finally smiling again as she shook her head again, amazed at her normally taciturn friend. She added, warmly, "They'll love it."

"I hope so," Emily murmured, straightening her shoulders as the rest of the team filed into the room with an obviously disgruntled Aaron Hotchner bringing up the rear. Exchanging a quick look with JJ, Emily wondered what had made their normally staid Unit Chief express such discontent.

"Let's get started," he said sharply, his voice surly as he slammed his briefcase to the wooden table in front of him, the sound echoing in the room.

Raising a dark eyebrow from his chair on the far side of the room, Dave asked in a carefully modulated voice, "Who stole your candy cane this morning, Aaron?"

Dropping heavily into his seat at the head of the table, Hotch shook his head as he looked around the room at his team, his dark eyes narrowing as he snapped out, "Not my candy cane. My book!"

"What book, Boss Man?" Garcia chirped from her position between Reid and Morgan, her cotton-candy shaped pens lined up in perfect order next to her notepad.

"Stupid question, Baby Girl," Morgan murmured kindly as Hotch's face grew even darker, his displeasure growing more obvious by the moment. "The book he's been looking over a month for, remember? The one you've pulled every Internet search known to man for."

"Oh," Pen gulped, reaching for her hot chocolate and taking a fortifying gulp.

"You found it?" Reid asked, surprised,, gazing up the scarred table toward his Unit Chief. "That's amazing!"

"WAS amazing, Reid! WAS!" Aaron thundered, dropping his hands down on the wood table.

"Do we want to ask what happened?" JJ asked, flashing a quick concerned glance in Emily's direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**Twas the Night Before Christmas**

_**Prompt: Grey's Anatomy – "Some Kind of Miracle"**_

**Chapter Three**

"What happened?" Hotch snorted. "WHAT HAPPENED?" he repeated, his rich baritone voice gaining in strength and volume.

"Could you stop with the parrot imitation and tell us what the hell has you so riled up?" Dave asked, settling back in his chair as he looked at his friend. "Seriously, man, the vein in your forehead is threatening to explode. I feel like I might need an arterial splash guard."

"Funny, Dave," Hotch grumbled.

"Seriously Boss Man, tell us how you lost the book," Penelope urged, biting down on her lower lip to stifle her laughter at her uncharacteristically flustered boss.

"I didn't _lose _it," Hotch retorted petulantly. "It was _stolen_!"

"Jesus, Hotch, I've already offered to get the kid a copy of that book," Dave groaned. "Jack is four. He's not gonna notice if it came from Barnes & Noble or grandma's attic."

"He'll know," Hotch assured Dave with a dark look. "You don't understand…Jack knows the illustrations…he knows the old wording…he'll know!"

"Let's get back to the theft part," Morgan said quickly. "_That _we might be able to do something about."

Snorting as he lifted his black coffee cup to his lips, Aaron shook his head with a stiff neck. "Stolen might have been a small overstatement, Morgan. The owner of the store simply sold it out from under me to some whack job. A whack job that paid _triple_ the price."

"Oh, God," Emily said faintly.

Offering her friend a quick sympathetic smile, JJ piped up, "Don't you think whack job is a little harsh, Hotch?"

"NO," Hotch growled. "That crazy nutcase of a woman ruined my son's Christmas. I'd say whack job is actually a kind term compared to what I'd like to call her! I mean is it _my_ fault that our flight got in too late Friday evening to go by the store or that Jack had a stomach bug on Saturday and I couldn't get into the store. I _tried_ to call. That deaf old bat couldn't hear the phone over her gleeful cackles at having duped some idiot woman into paying six hundred dollars for a book worth a quarter of that! And to top it all off, she wouldn't even give me that insane lady's name! I can't even go begging for the opportunity to top what she paid for it."

"Well isn't that something?" JJ murmured, glancing again at Emily's rapidly paling porcelain skin.

"What kind of freak pays that much for a book?" Morgan gasped.

"Maybe someone desperate to offer someone else a merry Christmas," JJ snapped crossly, glaring at the bald man.

"Or somebody that needs to be committed to the nearest mental institution that has an empty bed," Dave said with a shake of his head.

"And the worst part is that the shopkeeper tried to tell this woman that the book was spoken for…and do you want to know what this lady, that had more money than sense, said?" Hotch huffed, his face reddening in anger. "You snooze, you lose," he mimicked.

"Oh crap," Emily moaned softly.

"What was that, Prentiss?" Hotch snapped from the head of the table.

"N-nothing," Emily faltered.

Leaning back in his chair, Hotch glared around the table. "Bottom line, this infuriating female has single-handedly ruined my son's Christmas Eve, and by default, mine as well."

"Now, Boss Man," Pen consoled, "I'm sure it will all work out."

"Exactly how do you imagine that is going to happen, Garcia," Hotch growled. Seeing the wounded look pass over her face, Hotch drew a deep breath. "I apologize, Garcia. I know you mean well, but I believe I might need a few minutes to collect myself. Why don't we all meet back here after lunch," he suggested. "Perhaps, by then, I'll have recovered from my homicidal rage and my desire to find this loon and create a Christmas massacre of my own." Seeing the various nods around the table, Hotch nodded tersely, collecting his briefcase and his coffee before angrily walking from the room.

Waiting until the last of their co-workers filed out of the room, Emily looked at JJ. "I'm dead. So, so dead, JJ! If I'd known…," Emily groaned.

"But you didn't! AND, Hotch will have his book as soon as he calms enough to notice the package on his desk. It'll be a Christmas miracle! Take a deep breath and try to relax," she advised, patting Emily's shoulder as Hotch's irate voice tore through the BAU.

"Prentiss! My office! Now!!!" his strident voice beckoned, carrying loudly through the floor.

"You were saying?" Emily asked, her guilty eyes meeting JJ's as she shuddered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Twas the Night Before Christmas**

**Chapter Four**

_**NCIS – "Silent Night"**_

Uncharacteristically dragging her feet as she trudged through the maze of desks comprising the BAU's bullpen, Emily glanced toward Aaron Hotchner's open office door. Forcing one foot in front of the other, she knew he was waiting for her. Mentally flinching as she replayed his diatribe on the whack job that had stolen Christmas from his son, Emily quickly flipped through the pages of her normally apt mind searching desperately for a believable reason of how she could possibly have attained the classic Christmas story on his desk.

Pleading ignorance wouldn't work. She'd signed the damned card. Perhaps she could claim that she'd simply found it in the vast Prentiss library on Mother's estate. God only knew that if she had actually searched the library, she would have found the book and many others that Jack Hotchner would definitely enjoy. But, unfortunately for her, she was fully cognizant of the fact that she was, at best, an unconvincing liar. Add that to the fact that her boss was a nationally known profiler, and she knew her little white prevarication would explode in her face.

All she needed was for Hotch to believe that she was a thief and a liar. Oh hell, she groaned inwardly, she was going to have to admit to the truth, as painful as that might be. And he was right, the truth did paint her in the light of a – what had he called it? Oh, yes, a whack job!

Pausing outside his door, just out of sight, she heard him mumbling inside. Words like  
nut" and "lunatic" rolled off his tongue and she jumped slightly as she heard his gruff, "I know you're out there, Prentiss! Time to face the music."

Blushing furiously, Emily, not for the first time in her life, cursed her fair complexion. Casting a prayerful glance toward the tiled ceiling, a hastily whispered petition to the Almighty flying from her mind as she stepped inside, she tried to inject a confident note to her voice as she greeted, "You bellowed?"

Lifting his head from staring at the precious book in his hand, Hotch's dark gazed clashed with hers as he ordered, his voice heavy, "Close the door, Prentiss. I don't think either of us want any witnesses to this conversation, do you?"

Closing the door wordlessly with an audible click, Emily slowly turned back around to face the man that had inhabited more of her fantasies than she liked to recall at the moment. And it was because of those very fantasies that she had managed to get herself in this predicament. Standing mutely in front of him, Emily silently reminded herself that sometimes silence truly was golden. Absolutely no sense in incriminating herself until absolutely necessary, right? The United States guaranteed her the right to remain silent, as she had informed many a prisoner before, and she intended on availing herself of that very protection.

Aaron Hotchner, however, had a different mindset altogether. She could tell by the tense set of his jaw. Nope, this taciturn, complicated specimen of masculinity was going to deem it entirely necessary that she account for her actions. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted an explanation…a good one. She wondered idly if he would accept temporary insanity. Casting another glance at his face, she quickly determined that he would definitely not.

Licking his lips as he sketched her delicate features with his eyes, Hotch asked slowly, "Anything you'd care to explain to me, Prentiss?"

"Uhmmm, I found your book?" Emily said, smiling weakly, forcing herself to relax her shoulders as she stared into his dark gaze.

"My book wasn't lost. My book was simply awaiting my arrival to take it to its new home," Hotch said with forced patience, his fingers tracing the edge of the book in question. "At a much more reasonable price, I might add. That is..." he said, pausing for effect, "if you are, in fact, the, hmmm, how did I so eloquently put it earlier?"

"The whack job that stole your book," Emily muttered, averting her eyes as she supplied his earlier description for him, mentally thinking that for a man of his learning and intelligence, he could have chosen a more dignified description.

"Ah, yes," Hotch said, drawing a deep breath as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling of his office, trying desperately to suppress the delighted smile that so desperately wanted to escape. "So, Emily, are you?"

"Am I what?" Emily asked evasively, more than willing to try to back pedal her way out of this situation. Mentally berating herself, she once again wondered how her perfect gift could now be considered tainted? How had this happened? Oh, she definitely had a bone to pick with the person who had declared this to be "the most wonderful time of the year!"

"Are you the whack job that paid triple the price for my book?" Hotch asked evenly, his dark eyes landing on her reddening face once more.

Staring into his eyes, Emily knew he knew. And he knew that she knew that he knew. Lying would be futile at this point. And stupid…Don't forget stupid, Prentiss, she told herself. It's one thing to be caught, but acting stupid just was not done.

"Weellll-," she hedged, debating how she could best make this admission and still remain in one relative piece upon exiting his office. She was already aware that her Prentiss pride had fallen by the wayside.

"Emily," Hotch warned, his gaze zeroing in on her dilated eyes and quickened breathing. Many a suspect had incriminated himself with less tells than she was currently exhibiting, her guilt breaking to the surface even before her words left her mouth.

"Oh hell, Hotch!" Emily finally groaned, barely resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands, wondering if this once-happy day could get any worse. "You already know the answer to that! Yes! Yes, I'm the whack job! Happy, now?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Twas the Night Before Christmas**

**Chapter Five**

**Prompt: JAG – "All Ye Faithful"**

Chuckling as he watched Emily Prentiss' face turn mutinous, he barely restrained an outright laugh as she stomped around his desk and slammed a delicate hand to his chest, his knees rocking slightly as he managed to maintain his composure.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare laugh at me!" she railed, her black eyes flashing as she gained steam. "I did what I thought was necessary to give Jack the Christmas he deserved!"

Raising his hand to cover the fisted missile still resting against his chest, his strong fingers easily wrapping around hers, Hotch softly replied, "I know."

Her mind all geared for a full-blown discussion, Emily could only stare, open mouthed, as she finally registered those two simple words. "You know?" Emily asked blankly, her forehead scrunching in consternation as her righteous indignation seemed to seep out of her body, leaving her with a slightly deflated feeling.

"Yes, I know," Hotch nodded solemnly, meeting her confused eyes. "But what I want to understand is why you went to those kind of lengths over a simple children's storybook," he prodded gently, watching her shift on her feet guiltily.

"It was important," she mumbled finally, silently noting that he'd not released her hand from his chest.

"I know why it was important to me, Prentiss," Hotch rumbled quietly, his eyes never wavering from her face. "What I want to know is why it was so important to you that you were willing to buy a simple book out from under some unsuspecting customer for triple what it was worth? People just don't walk around doing those kinds of things for no particular reason. Holiday cheer and goodwill towards our fellow man only extends so far," he reminded her softly, shaking his dark head.

"Hotch-," Emily whispered shakily, her body unable to ignore the stirrings that the nearness of his body was bringing. For all these months, she had tried to reign in her feelings, to maintain a tight control on her emotions, and yet here she was, face to face with the man of her dreams, literally and figuratively. And she didn't think she would be capable of lying to him, not when the stakes were this high. But how could she explain to him that she couldn't bear the thoughts of Jack's Christmas…of Aaron's Christmas….being ruined because a tradition couldn't be kept? Nothing could bring back Haley, but if this one thing made both of them feel that their lives would continue forward, then she had to do it, didn't she?

"Just answer the question for me, Em," Hotch urged, hoping that her reply would be the response he desperately needed to hear. Over these last few months, he had come to rely on her in so many different ways for so many different needs. But now, he needed to know that she was more than just a friend….more than just a colleague.

"I bought the book because it was important to you…to both of you. And I've watched you trying so hard these past few months," Emily said quietly, pausing to lick her lips as she focused her gaze on a point just beyond his broad shoulder, an old avoidance trick she had learned as a child, a ploy to trick her mind so her emotions would not run rampant. "And everything has been so hard. So endlessly hard. You deserved for something to be easy. And if something as simple as a child's Christmas story was going to do that for you, then any price I had to pay was worth it. Anything I had to do was worth it to know that you got some small measure of joy this Christmas. For you and for Jack. You've been such a faithful, steadfast father to your son. Trust me, I know. You're the exact opposite of what I grew up with, and Jack is unbelievably lucky to have you in his life. You've earned the right to a few special Christmas miracles."

Shifting his hands to wrap around her waist, his fingers settling easily against the perfect softness of her hips, Aaron Hotchner drew a woman close to his heart for the first time since Haley had walked away from him. "Thank you, Emily," his hushed voice whispered against her fragrant hair, taking a deep breath as he sought to capture the moment, to preserve the memory in all of its perfection. "I can't begin to tell you what that means to me. To both of us."

Relaxing against his warm body, Emily's eyes drifted closed as she relished the feel of strong arms surrounding her, giving in to the sensations as she bunched her fists in the starched white cotton of his shirt. Leaning against him for a long moment as his large hand smoothed over the back of her cotton shirt, she finally asked, wrinkling her forehead, "Does this mean that you've revised your opinion of the alleged whack job that stole your book?"

Dropping his chin to rest of her silky black hair, Hotch chuckled again, the vibrations rumbling through both of their bodies. "Oh, I still think you're a whack job, Em, albeit one with the best possible intentions. And I'll never forget what you did for us. Which is why I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" she repeated, shifting her head against his chest to gaze hopefully up at him, her eyes widening at the possibilities. "That sounds like it might be ominous."

"Not really…not unless you're fundamentally incapable of putting cookies out for Santa. I want you to spend Christmas Eve with us. Come watch my little boy's eyes light up when I read that story. Come and watch what you did for him," Hotch invited, his voice deep as he met her bright eyes, a hopeful wistfulness invading his voice.

Nodding slowly, Emily replied, her voice cracking as she realized the full implications of his request, "I'd love nothing better."


	6. Chapter 6

**Twas the Night Before Christmas**

**Chapter Six**

_**Prompt: Will & Grace – "All About Christmas Eve"**_

Straightening her festive red sweater for the fourth time as she walked down the corridor to Aaron Hotchner's apartment, Emily Prentiss tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. She'd been here dozens of times over the past few months, hadn't she? For all kinds of reasons. But the romantic portion of her mind reminded her that none of those visits in the past had been nearly as special as this. Not even close. Because this time, he'd invited her. He'd made the first move. Well, sort of. She HAD bought the book for him, but that was just splitting hairs, wasn't it?

Lifting a trembling hand to rap the brass knocker against the wood, Emily tried to swallow that thrill of excitement and anticipation singing through her veins. It was just a simple Christmas visit she reminded herself, tightening her fingers around the gifts in her hands. "Steady, Prentiss," she murmured as she heard a slight scuffle on the other side of the door.

Eyes widening as the door jerked open, she caught her breath as Aaron Hotchner's four year old miracle barreled into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as he buried his head in her stomach. Glancing down, she automatically dropped one soft hand down to rest on the shaking little boy's head.

"Aunt Emily," Jack begged, his words muffled, "Tell daddy we can't leave Santa plain ole Oreos for tonight! Tell him!"

Gently tugging the little boy's arm as he clung to Emily, Hotch met her eyes, mouthing, "Sorry." Directing his gaze to his son, Hotch said with quiet parental authority, "Jack, how bout you let your Aunt actually make it inside first."

Shaking her head as she smoothed her hand over Jack Hotchner's silky locks, Emily murmured, "Honey, let me put down the gifts and we'll give this some serious discussion, okay?"

Drawing back to look up at his aunt's compassionate eyes, Jack nodded wordlessly. Wiping at the tear tracks on his face, he pointed at his dad as he took a step backward. "He's gonna make Santa mad, Aunt Emily! He don't know the routine!"

Biting her lower lip as she caught the frustrated look in Aaron's eyes, Emily handed off the gaily wrapped packages to Aaron before squatting in front of his son. Smoothing a hand over his flushed cheek, Emily shook her head as she reminded the little boy quietly, "Daddy is new at all this, remember? He's trying real hard though."

"He don't do it like mommy, Aunt Emily," Jack accused, his dark eyes glaring at his father over Emily's shoulder. "Mommy says that Santa works hard all year long making my presents and he earns a special treat! Plain stinky Oreos ain't special!"

"Aren't special," Emily corrected gently, taking the little boy's tiny hand in hers and squeezing gently.

"Jack," Hotch said, striving for parental patience, "I've already explained that I don't know how to make cookies, son. Santa will settle for Oreos."

Seeing Jackson Hotchners face contort mutinously, Emily decided a quick intervention was needed. Looking over her shoulder at Hotch, she asked softly, "Would it be okay if I made cookies with Jack, Aaron? Just something simple?"

"Emily, you don't have to…," Hotch trailed off as his son's face magically transformed into the picture of hope.

"I know," she whispered, rising to stand just in front of him. "But you had your traditions with him and Haley had hers…both need to be honored tonight," she said in a hushed voice as she rested a hand against his chest.

Swallowing past the emotion clogging his throat, Hotch nodded mutely. "You're right," he said hoarsely, meeting her soft understanding eyes. "Are you sure that you don't mind?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm absolutely positive," she quickly assured him as she watched some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Sliding her hand over Jack's soft hair, Emily said with a true cheerfulness, "Jack, what if you and I show Daddy how it's done?"

Seeing the little boy's forehead wrinkle as he looked up doubtfully at his father, Emily bit back a smile as she added, seriously, "I have it on very good authority that Daddy knows how to turn on the oven and everything. He might even already know where the bowls and spoons are."

Turning to look at his adopted aunt, his face starting to smile again, Jack nodded as he grabbed both of the adults hands, dragging them across the hardwood floors toward the open kitchen. "We gotta get the cookies ready before Santa leaves the North Pole or he'll know we weren't ready!"

But Jack suddenly stopped, his hands dropping to his sides as he stared dolefully up at the closed cabinet doors. Frowning, Hotch knelt down beside him, his eyes watching his son closely as he asked, "Son, what's wrong now?"

Turning his doe eyes toward his father, Jack muttered, "You don't got no cookie stuff, Daddy! How's Aunt Em'ly gonna make cookies with no cookie stuff?"

Catching the flash of concern in Hotch's eyes, Emily stepped forward, scooping up Jack and popping him down on Hotch's spotless counter. Opening the refrigerator door, she said with a grin in the boy's direction, "That's the miracle of Christmas, Jack. Daddy does have everything, but I bet he doesn't know it."

Seconds later, Jack and Aaron Hotchner both stared in amazement as eggs, peanut butter, and sugar showed up on the counter. But the amazement turned to laughter as the little boy rolled out cookie dough, pressing a fork in haphazard patterns, all while chattering up a storm to his very appreciative father.

An hour later, the peanut butter cookies exactly in the right position beside the tree, a tall glass of milk in place, Hotch whispered to Emily, "You're going to have to tell me how you pulled off this little miracle. I would have sworn my cabinets were not capable of cookie making tonight."

Grinning up at him, her eyes tracing the smile lines surrounding his eyes, Emily shrugged as she replied, "You have a little boy, so I assumed peanut butter was a staple. I know you add sugar to your coffee, and you mentioned that Jack likes pancakes for breakfast, so I took a guess that there would be eggs in the fridge."

"And the recipe? You just pulled that out of your hat, did you?"

Glancing down at the happy little boy who was once again rearranging the cookies and munching away on one of his own, Emily said with a reminiscent smile, "One of the few good things I remember from my childhood. Our housekeeper in Romania was an American transplant, and one of the closest things I've ever had to a real grandmother. She let me help in the kitchen until my mother found out."

Seeing the shadows starting to settle in her eyes as she made the last admission, Hotch wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against him as he said, "Well, now you can all add this as a new memory." Feeling her nod against his shirt, Hotch turned them to look at Jack as he said with a grin, "Son, you think it's about time for our story time?"

Grinning at Hotch's widened eyes as she let the tiny boy lead her, Emily whispered, "I feel that your son has a career as a drill sergeant ahead of him.

An hour later as Aaron Hotchner's deep voice faded in the quintessential little boy's bedroom, complete with a red racecar bed, Emily shook her head as she stared down at the peaceful face of one Jack Hotchner. He'd demanded his father read the story three times, quoting lines right alongside his dad. It was only during the fourth retelling that the little man, so much his father's son in word and deed, had began to fade.

Now, it appeared that the little boy had finally surrendered to the chaos of the day, secure in the knowledge that Santa would be well fed and in a very giving mood. Smiling, Emily couldn't resist dropping a hand to the drowsing boy's head and gently brushing back the black tendrils.

"What I wouldn't give to be that size again," Hotch whispered, looking over her shoulder at his sleeping son.

"The innocence of childhood," Emily agreed softly with a nod. "Even my parents didn't seem quite so bad at his age."

Reaching forward to flip off his bedside lamp, Hotch followed behind Emily as she crept out of the room.

Smiling over her shoulder as they reached the living room, Emily said gratefully, "I've got to say, Hotch…best Christmas Eve ever. I haven't had this much fun in ages."

"Honestly, Emily, I haven't either," Hotch replied truthfully, touched by the soft glow on Emily's face.

Bending down to grab two cookies off of Santa's designated plate, she handed one to Hotch, meeting the quizzical look in his eyes as she said, eyebrow raised, "Santa has to try the cookies, or Jack will think they weren't good enough."

Obediently chomping at the tasty treat, Hotch nodded toward the glass of milk as he said, biting back a smile, "Which one of us is going to be the reindeer that drinks the milk?"

Grabbing the glass, Emily took a sip then handed it to Hotch as she said, chuckling, "Drink up, Rudolph. I have a feeling that Jack expects results, and we'd best not disappoint him."

Dropping the half-empty cup back beside the lighter plate, Hotch wiped his lips as he asked, "Don't tell me you learned that one in Romania also."

"No, that one just came to me. And I wanted a cookie," she answered with a smile. Glancing up at him, Emily cocked her head as she asked, softly, "There's something about being with a child on Christmas Eve. I don't know how to explain it, but…" She merely shrugged her shoulders, letting her words fade off as she stared into his eyes, the twinkle of the Christmas lights flashing off of his darkened orbs.

Hotch nodded as he reached out a tentative finger, tracing the edge of her face as he murmured, "I know. When I see the entire season through Jack's eyes, with his excitement, it makes everything seem much more…more…"

Taking advantage of his unusual loss of words, Emily completed his sentence, her words soft, not wanting to spoil the moment. "Magical."

"That's a good word." Nodding as he laced his strong fingers with her delicate ones, he pulled her ever-so-slightly, sinking them both onto the couch as he said, voice deep, "But the unfortunate thing about magic is that it fades. Sometimes, we adults wake up, and those gifts that were before our faces the night before have disappeared."

Swallowing hard, Emily shifted against the firm cushions, her hip rubbing against his as she replied, slowly, "But sometimes we get lucky, and we get to keep those special gifts, if we want it enough. The more precious the gift, the more determinedly we have to guard it."

The faint smell of baked peanut butter mingled with the waft of barely-there strawberries, her shampoo fragrance tickling his nose. Trailing his hand over her shoulders as he pulled her closer, Aaron fervently hoped that he would never forget this moment, this magical moment in time. His lips were almost against her ear as he whispered, "I don't think I'll be losing your gift anytime soon, Emily. That is, of course, if you'll always help me remember where it is."

Her hand reaching out, Emily pressed her fingers against the soft cotton of his Henley, covering the center of his chest as she smiled, a gently curve of her lips, her words filled with promise as she said, "You can't forget what's in your heart, Aaron. And this Christmas will always be in my heart, and I hope in yours."

"It is. And I hope it's the first of many Christmases together to come." Leaning forward to gently capture her lips, their hands trapped comfortably between them, Hotch answered with a smile, "I think this is going to be a good night, Emily."

And at the ungodly hour of three AM, an excited but extremely quiet Jack Hotchner crept into the living room, his eyes widening as he noticed the missing cookies and the drained milk, and the large assortment of gifts under the tree. His footsteps quickened as he rounded the couch, jumping hard on his sleeping father and his Aunt Emily as he yelled, "Santa came, Daddy! Wake up, Aunt Emily! It's Christmas! Santa came! He found me! He found me!"

Catching his first breath of the morning as he hugged his squiggling son tightly, Hotch met the sleepy dark eyes of the woman who had become extremely important to him as he murmured, "Santa found both of us, son. Merry Christmas to all of us."

_**FINIS**_


End file.
